


merry christmas

by megamegaturtle



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen, drinking mentioned, father and son moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5512100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megamegaturtle/pseuds/megamegaturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Agreste Family Christmas. Here’s a hint: it’s nothing like the Dupain-Cheng’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	merry christmas

They don’t celebrate Christmas.

In their mansion, it remains the same, clean and sterile as any other day. No tree is put up nor decorated with sentimental ornaments and there are no stockings over the fireplace, each embroidered with their names. No Christmas lights twinkle and gleam and the house never smells of gingerbread. 

The month of December continues all the same, but no one dare breathes a _Merry Christmas_  while on the grounds. In fact, in the Agreste household, the calendar simply states that there is a December 23rd and 26th, but please, never ask about the 24th and 25th. 

So, Adrien doesn’t spend it with his father and doesn’t buy him a gift. 

They continue to pretend that the holiday is nonexistent, not wanting to give it a name for names are powerful. 

So, Adrien accepts it. 

But this year, the rule seems to be shattered.

Adrien only knows that because when he unlocks the door to his home that lacks the holiday spirit, he hears faint Christmas music playing. It sends a chill down his spine and makes his stomach uneasy, alarms bells going off in his head as he takes off his coat and sends Plagg to his room.

After all, they don’t celebrate Christmas.

With careful steps, he goes upstairs and sees a dim light coming from his father’s bedroom. Knots form in his stomach as his fingers skim the cold walls as he goes forward. As he nears, he can hear his father sing. 

 _“I’ll be home for Christmas_  
You can count on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree”.

Taking a deep breath, opens the door and his eyes adjust to yellow light washing his father’s room. But as the door squeaks open, his father’s icy blue eyes lock on his green ones. Today they’re not as hard as stone, but instead watery and dazed.

A sigh escapes him, half in pity and half in annoyance, as Gabriel Agreste sits on his bed with disheveled hair surrounded by wedding albums. He doesn’t need to see the empty bourbon bottles on the night stand to know that his father has been drinking; the burning stink in the room is enough.

Stepping forward, Adrien heaves another sigh and goes to sit on the edge of the bed. “I thought we don’t do Christmas, Dad,” he says informally. 

Gabriel’s cheeks are flushed red, his usually perfect slick back hair sticking up in every direction. He takes a swig of the drink in his hand for a moment, then slurs, “But your mother…” It’s a trailed sentence, and honestly, Adrien doesn't’ know if even has an end. 

 Adrien only shakes his head, air filling his lungs as he glances at pretty pictures of people who no longer exist. His father smiling, happy and proud as his wife smashes cake in his face. And his mother, well–that’s a thought better for another day. 

Instead, Adrien slowly gathers the picture books and setting them on the floor, despite his father’s slurred protests. “Let’s just get you to sleep,” he decided as he shuts off the radio and takes the drink away from his father’s fingertips.

Gabriel doesn’t argue and lays back in bed. Like the dutiful son that he is, Adrien pulls back the covers and tucks his father in bed. He smooths a gentle hand over his father’s messy hair and the irony that he is child is not lost on him.

But he chooses on to dwell on it either. 

“Rest well, Father,” he whispers.

When he’s at the door, he hears it, the words most children hear more often.

“Merry Christmas, Adrien. I love you.” 

Looking over his shoulder, he prays his father can’t hear the sound his heart is making as it cracks. 

“I love you too,” he replies, letting the words hang in the air for a moment before he tuns off the lights.

As he goes back to his room, inspecting the bare house, Adrien admits once again that it’s better that they don’t celebrate Christmas.


End file.
